


Fed Up

by theendofera



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bit of Dark Humour, Cannibilism, Character Death, F/M, men being men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theendofera/pseuds/theendofera
Summary: It occurred to Elizabeth as she swung the axe that she was really doing her husband a favour.After all she was only trying to knock some sense into his thick skull.It wasn’t until the axe fell, splitting his head like a melon, that she realised this was going to be messy.A fiction based in 1950'sIt does get a little messyThere is cannibalism in here as this is a slightly more violent take on Roald Dahl's Lamb to the Slaughter.





	Fed Up

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of morbid humor, for those who enjoy this kind of thing.  
> I have posted this on both wordpress and on Wattpad and it is under ERA or theendofera.

It occurred to Elizabeth as she swung the axe that she was really doing her husband a favour. After all she was only trying to knock some sense into his thick skull. It wasn’t until the axe fell, splitting his head like a melon, that she realised this was going to be messy.

-

Yesterday morning, Elizabeth was fuming while seated on the balcony, sipping tea quietly, watching Jonathan drive sedately down the curved gravel driveway in his prized dark green Bentley.  
Roughly, bluntly and without subtlety he had announced the new facts of life.  
“I am selling the estate. The money's all gone. There are debts to be paid.” Jon gestured wildly. “There are people who do not tolerate not being paid what they are owed.”  
Elizabeth said quietly “You’re talking about the bookmakers aren’t you?”  
“It’s just what happened. I am leaving now.” He quickly packed an overnight bag and without any further ado, left.

-

Elizabeth then considered all she was going to lose. It is my inheritance. Over several generations my family have built up the estate, they have given me the house, provided jobs for people, created a modest fortune, and he has lost it all.  
Elizabeth thought that was such vulgar behaviour. He was an inconsiderate, unfeeling, obnoxious bastard. He had blinded her with flattery and compliments. It was her fault for foolishly believing him. She had to do something, she could not sit here twiddling her thumbs. She would not allow this morally corrupt, scrofulous little man to destroy everything she had worked for. It would be a disgrace if such a tragedy befell Black Hill Manor.  
-

The next morning having fed the stock she returned to the house only to find Jonathan rummaging through her belongings. “What are you doing?” she demanded, outraged he had the nerve to return.  
He didn’t even bother to look unrepentant. “Where is your jewellery box?”  
“It belonged to my great-great-grandmother. You are not going to get your filthy hands on that, and besides you won’t find it here.” Jon stopped rifling.  
“Oh, and Scimitar is pining for you. You ought to do something decent and say good-bye to him. He is in his stall”  
Regret was apparent in his eyes for the first time as he thought of his precious stallion. He departed the house and crossed the yard. As she watched her attention was drawn away from Jon and ever nearer to an axe embedded in a stump near the pigsty. She did not hesitate. It occurred to Elizabeth as she swung the axe that she was really doing her husband a favour.  
After all she was only trying to knock some sense into his thick skull. It wasn’t until the axe fell, splitting his head like a melon, that she realised this was going to be messy.

The remains of Jonothan's brain, or what little there was of it left, were scattered over the yard

What to do?  
How to dispose of the evidence?  
The Wessex Saddle-back pigs, Tristan and Isolde, grunted curiously from their pen.  
Elizabeth had found her solution.  
She briskly undressed Jon, loaded his corpse into the wheelbarrow and trundled him over to the pig enclosure. Anger had given her strength. With little effort Elizabeth dumped Jon’s limp form into the trough. 

As she stepped out of the pen she heard a loud, crunching sound like saplings in wind. Isolde had his leg clenched between her jaws.  
Slowly, remorselessly and with great enjoyment Tristan and Isolde, squealing with pleasure, ripped the flesh off the bones, tore Jon into chunks, and devoured him.

 

3 Weeks Later

Over dinner the Vicar, the magistrate and the chief constable discussed Jon’s mysterious disappearance. “How difficult it must be for you, my dear,” said Vicar Kirk, putting on his best concerned face.  
“Have you any idea why he left?” said the chief constable, who was onto his fifth port of the evening. Elizabeth poured him another. She did not want him clear headed. Tears welled in her deep blue eyes. “No, not at all it appears he had just vanished.”  
As the judge picked up the carving knife he said, “Damn good pork this. Anyone want any more?”

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried to tag it correctly. Let me know if anything else ought to be added or adjusted.  
> Cheers guys  
> \- Not Elizabeth


End file.
